Apparently it looks like that's-not-even-all-the-soda-I've-drank-in-the-last-24-hours or I'm-too-lazy-to-cook-so-we-ordered-50-dollars-of-pizza. Let's just say that teething is brutal, especially when it makes a beautiful, uber-sweet baby stay up till one AM every night and then spend the actual time he sleeps waking up every two to four hours. And having this go on for almost two weeks now.
Endless amounts of Cherry Coke, Vanilla Coke, Coke (sensing a trend here?), and the occasional Jones Root Beer, grabbed from a last-ditch-effort-to-exhaust-baby Walmart run at eleven o'clock at night, have been consumed along with some delicious Pie by a very, very tired mother of George Bailey. This includes breakfast this morning. Basically, all shame is gone at this point.
Worst part? Through it all, George is just nice. I feel like I'd feel more legitimate in feeling so overtired if George was screaming or otherwise being a bigger poop than he is. But seriously, he's just SO NICE. Sometimes during the day he's having an especially rough time and he'll let you know, yes. But as soon as he's keeping us up till all-hours he's just about the nicest person you've ever met. And it's super awkward. But I want to feel angry but I can't. Rather, I just feel tired. And drink another Coke.
But really, when you think of motherhood you think of these moments, right? Seriously. This is being a mom. Media doesn't really over exaggerate this facet of it, really. Because seriously, sometimes it really does feel like you're on one of those movies as it's midnight and your son has now been up for over six hours straight (which is so not normal for a six-month old) and here Brad and I are, lying on the bed with him between us just acting like a total spaz as he giggles and giggles and plays and plays, and we're just so worn out that all we're asking George is, "How are you not worn out?"
We've also seen George wanting to play on his own a lot. Which, actually, was very nice of him. He now just sits up on his own and will play with his toys for a long, long time. It's weird, I sort of expected him to be older be he wanted to do that, but it's been pleasant because I've been able to basically veg out next to him as he entertains himself. He may not be letting me sleep at night, but he allowed me the breaks and basic deadbeat-ness during the day to feel less tired.
This last night George followed that same routine as the last few weeks, staying up till midnight before we finally had him tuckered out enough to sleep. And we get into bed ourselves, expecting the same as the last few nights. And, suddenly... George sleeps. And sleeps. For seven and a half hours straight. Um, weird. What just happened there? I woke up multiple times figuring him awake, but alas, he never was. It wasn't until Brad got into the shower at seven forty-five this morning that I could finally hear him wiggling in him crib. It was crazy amazing. And when he didn't want to go back to sleep, I wasn't sighing. I sort of felt like I had been given some sort of nerdy Zelda-esque elixir and was just like, "You go, dude!" proud of George.
I'm still tired. I've still already drank basically a liter of Coke and eaten two pieces of pizza this morning. But still, I feel better. George is actually taking a real nap right now and I'm still ignoring every task I should be doing right now, including such a mass of laundry I can't even fathom how many loads it'll take to wash. But hey, as some point I'll need underwear and I'll have to wash at least a chunk of it, right?